


A heart of Silver

by SheenaKazia



Category: Custom World, Fairies - Fandom, Harpies - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Dragons, Elves, F/M, Fairies, Harpies, Humans, Wars, bad deals, lot of passing time, major deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23327200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheenaKazia/pseuds/SheenaKazia
Summary: An original story about a half-fairy half-Harpy hybrid. Sky was sired by a Fairy or guardian as the harpies call them. Fairies and the immortal guards of the balance of nature, are kind and fight only when needed. Harpies, on the other hand, are devils with wings, the most violent of the mortal races. Their worth measured by the blood they can spill on the battlefield. Sky struggles to find his place in the world. He's too gentle to belong to the Harpies but also too aggressive to belong to the Faye. Can he ever find his place in this world?
Relationships: Olivia/Marcus, Sky/Maya, Tyne/Sarah





	A heart of Silver

"Momma? Why can't I play with the other kids?" A young boy asked. He was sitting on a ceramic rain pot. Ahead of him seven other children were playing a game of tag. His silver-white hair seemed to clash with everything else. The homes around him were made of a red-brown terracotta brick. The rain pots on which he sat were red with gold and bronze painted patterns. All the other children had hair ranging from red to brown to gold.

"Because that bastard of chief thinks you're something less." His mother, Sarah, answered. She brushed her auburn hair out of her face. She looked up from the laundry she was washing. Her brown eyes softened as she looked at her boy.

"Come here, Lazarus." She said beckoning him with her hands. He hopped off the pot his head barely cleared the top rain pot. He walked over to her. She pulled him into her and hugged him. 

"One day you'll be a champion to stand above them all. You're more special than you know. I know you have your father's strength and my fighting spirit. But you're still young and for now, we're better off keeping to ourselves." Sarah assured him. He nodded and squeezed his mother back. 

"Can I play in the woods?" Lazarus asked. His mother looked towards the woods, a flash of nervousness crossed her expression. 

"Lazarus, I don't want you out there alone. You're still a child." She said petting his head.

"Please Momma? I won't go far. I promise." Lazarus begged. He gave her his best puppy dog eyes. His mother sighed as she met her son's dark grey eyes. 

"If you go more than fifty wing lengths away, I will pluck you like a dinner bird. Stay where I can find you." She warned. Lazarus nodded. His mother's threat struck a chord. his sliver grey wings pressed tight against his body. 

"Yes, Momma," he answered before darting off towards the trees. He spread his wings enjoying the wind against his feathers. The wings grew out from his shoulders, forking away from his arms as independent limbs. Sadly they were still too small for flight. His primary features yet to fully come in and his downy baby feathers still covering his wings. 

The harsh cedar scent filled his nose. The dry pine needles pricked his bare feet. He flapped his wings stirring up the pine needles and scattering them across the ground. He laughed and flapped them again enjoying the small shower of needles he stirred up. He had seen some of the harpy children play a similar game but with the broader leaves lower down the mountains. He smirked, he had a sneaking suspicion that he was better at this game than the other kids. They could barely move the broader leaves one wing length. Even pine needles Lazarus could send over two wing lengths. 

He started deeper into the forest. Cedar trees grew and thickened as he moved towards the heart of the forest. The towering trunks blocked out the blue of the sky. Overhanging branches thicker than his body leaked sap down on him in a rainstorm of sticky goo. He tucked his wings against his body. Cleaning sap from feathers was a pain.

Birds were chirping above him, singing the first songs of the new growing season. He smiled ear to ear. He loved the woods. It always made him feel some at home. The trees seemed to hum around him and the breeze was constantly pressed up against him like a constant friend. Everything about the forest was comforting to him. 

He paused at a small clear stream and made a face. Well almost everything in the forest was comforting. Sky hated the water. It weighed down his wing and was too cold. He hated the feeling of icy cold running down his back. Lazarus kicked a bunch of dirt into the stream with a huff. 

“Hey, Lazzy?” A voice called over his head. Lazarus looked up already frowning. Azazel was perching in the branches above his head. The boy was a few cycles older than Lazarus and a half a head taller than him. Azazel stretched his gold and black wings out catching the sunlight on his fully matured flight feathers. His eyes narrowed on the younger boy as he smirked. Lazarus pressed his wings tight against his back and lowered himself slightly. 

“What do you want?” Lazarus asked. His voice shook a little. He doubted this was going to end well for him.

“Watch your tone brat. A bastard child like you shouldn’t talk to the future chief that way.” Azazel said, leaping down from the branch and landing on Lazarus’s shoulders. Like all Harpies, Azazel's feet had long double-jointed toes tipped with razor talons. Those long toes easily wrapped around Lazarus’s skinny arms and dug into his flesh. The younger boy cried out and tried to struggle. Azazel laughed and started flapping his wings, lifting both of them into the air. Lazarus screamed as Azazel’s black claws left deep gouges in his shoulders and forearms. 

“Put me down!” Lazarus cried. He tried to bat at Azazel with his wings but all that did was make the other boy tighten his grip. 

“Oh you want me to put you down, alright,” Azazel said, dropping Lazarus right over the stream. Icy water soaked Lazarus all the way down to his bones. His wings tripled in weight and Lazarus struggled to climb the muddy bank. Azazel kicked him in the face as he reached the top and the younger boy was sent tumbling back down into the frigid waters. Lazarus spluttered and covered his face with both hands. Four long trenches were carved out in the center of his face. Blood mixed with the water running down his face and darkened the water. 

Azazel started laughing as the smaller boy curled up in a ball. The smell of blood excited the young harpy that was until Lazarus threw his head back and started crying a loud reverberating sound. Azazel felt his blood run cold. He opened his wings fully intending to run but a clawed hand grabbed his wings before he could even manage a full flap.

“What have you done to my baby?” Sarah snarled, twisting her fingers under the hardened shield feathers, and gripping his softer under feathers. 

“Get your hands off me, you harlet.” Azazel snarled. It was exactly the worst thing to say to her. Her reddish bronze eyes narrowed into slits. Without a word she ripped her hand back pulling out a handful of feathers. Azazel screamed as blood dripped from his wings.

“Is this how my chief has taught his son to act?” She asked. Her voice was a low hiss. Azazel stared at her in horror as she loomed over him. 

“Did he raise you to talk back to your elders?” She demanded. Azazel cowarded down and instead of answering he bolted. Sarah sneered but turned to attend her crying child. Lazarus was still sitting in the stream sobbing. She walked over and plucked her child out of the water and started back to the shack they called home.

“I told you it was a bad idea to go out by yourself.” She muttered.


End file.
